A Servant of Darkness I: the Quiet
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Numenorean. Lord of Vamag. Ringwraith. This is the tale of some four thousand years, stretching from the island of Numenor to the red sands of the South and into the shadows of the uttermost East. This is the tale of Adûnaphel the Quiet, the female Ringwraith under the dominion of the Dark Lord of Mordor. Based on the books and the MERP. Rated T
1. Arrival

**(AN: Well, because i don't have enough to do [said in sarcasm], i've decided to go back to Arda and tell another story about the Second Age. If this goes over well, it might end up as a series about the Ringwraiths and Arnor and such. Who knows? Anyhow, ever since high school I always wanted to tell the story of the Ringwraiths, and seeing as how there are so few good _Lord of the Rings_ fics on here, the time has now come.)  
**

 **(This story is based on several sources. First and foremost, of course, is Tolkien's _Lord of the Rings_ , then the _Middle Earth Role-Playing Game_ [for the character and back-story of the main character]: both of which are properties of their own respective owners and not me. The films are mostly for visual reference, as i HATED the whole "Nazgul tomb" from _The Hobbit_ movies and consider most, if not all, of _The Hobbit_ film trilogy to be apocrypha [as opposed to _The Hobbit_ book, which is canon].)**

* * *

 **Arrival**

The Haven of Umbar had long been a great and important port for the Kingdom of Numenor. It sat upon the smallest of three peninsulas that stretched westward from the Glinfalas, at the very crook where they were thrust out from the mainland. Though still in its infancy and having not reached the fullness of its might, the haven was indeed a wonder for all to see, from the Red Cliffs far to the northwest as well as those approaching it from the bay and Maros. Like a great wheel it sat between the two sides of the bay, with a great outer wall of black stone, standing in stark contrast to the white sands to the south, north and east of the city. Behind the black outer wall, the city arose in all of its youthful beauty and splendor. Its houses, palaces, towers, minarets and halls were still white and the black banner of the Star of Numenor still flew proudly from its battlements.

From out of the west, out of the sea, came a fleet of ships with black sails, ridden forth from that very island kingdom. Twenty ships there were, a pittance of the naval might of the Sea-Kings of Numenor. But this was not the High King come to war with the Haradrim of the desert, or the dog-folk of Waw in their mountain halls in the north. This was the coming of a new vassal into a fief, and twenty ships was more than enough for the claiming of an inheritance. Yea, such a great host would seem overmuch for a simple vassal, even a great one at that. But the lord who was about to set foot on the eastern shores was of noble birth, and even for a prince or the second cousin of a king, such a host was more than necessary.

The lord in question was, in fact, a lady. Numeniel was her name after the Elvish fashion, though she was one of those nobles who took up the name King's Men. Therefore she bore a name, not in the Elvish, but in her native Adunaic tongue, the language of Westernesse and of secret rebellion against the Eldar. Adunaphel was her name in that tongue and she was tall and fair. Easily as tall as any man, she was slender and fair-skinned, with dark hair, almost as black as that of the Dark Prince Er-Murazor, second son of Tar-Ciryatan, High King of Westernesse, and eyes as grey as the sea. She stood upon the bow of the largest ship, gazing out at the wonder opening up before her eyes, the great haven of Umbar. Fair were the silver-white halls of her family in Forostar and Orrostar, the northern and eastern spires of her island home, and the Palace of the King in Armenelos and the Great Northern Watchtower in Forostar were the fairest and most noble of all the halls she had seen. Yet here, gazing upon this pale white city, she thought she saw a great queen seated in power and splendor, with the black outer wall as her circlet. For so seemed the great city, even in its youth.

"A queen you appear to me," she spoke upon seeing the glory of the haven: her voice was fair, pleasing to the ear and authoritative. "But as a king shall I rule you. And you shall be great."

Adunaphel was not the first man or woman of Westernesse to set sail to Middle Earth with the desire to rule, nor would she be the last. Centuries ago, the first men came to these lands from over the sea, as friends and protectors of the lesser peoples, the Men of Darkness. They taught them letters, crafts according to their wisdom and ability, and educated them against the foul teachings that had ensnared them. They left many cities and ports from as far north as Eriador to here in the south, where the stars were strange and winter never came as more than a chill breeze.

But those days were long gone. A darkness had fallen upon the Isle of Numenor and its people. Long had there been friendship between the Eldar and the Edain, the Men of Westernesse, but that friendship now was growing strained. The Eldar lived and prospered and continued in their youth, strength and vigor, while the Edain grew old, withered, took ill and, in the end, died. Though they lived many hundreds of years, they could not outrun death; and the shadow of death now hung over the hearts and minds of the Men of Numenor. Glory they sought, to make for themselves a mark by which all would remember them and sing their praises even long after they were dead and gone.

As conquerors they came back to Middle Earth, and so it was for Adunaphel daughter of Adunahil. For a conqueror she came with a host of two thousand men aboard her ships, to rule this land as a vassal of the High King, but as a lord and king in her own right.

* * *

The lord's flagship came to berth at the Vinendili, on the northwestern shore of the bay. This was a wharf for the ships of Numenor's naval and armed forces. Once the moorings were cast and the huge black sails brought in, the sailors on-board the flagship lowered the wooden ramp that would allow the crew and their lord to disembark. First there came a cadre of the lord Adunaphel's personal guards, all of them clad in hauberks of steel rings beneath their black livery, with steel caps damasked with lofty sea-bird wings on both temples. Each of them bore a sword and a knife in sheaths upon their belts, and resting upon their shoulders were great-swords easily as long as these Dunedain were tall. They disembarked in two long rows, ten men to each row. Once these had disembarked, another company of twenty guards left the ship: at the head of this group was the lord in question. She was clad as they were, though the livery she wore was embroidered with silver, and had, upon the breast, a silver star. Once her boots touched the stone wharf, a delegation from the Vinendili arrived to greet her company. At its head was a dignified looking steward in gray robes, with a white staff in his hands whose head-stone was made of gold.

"Welcome to Umbar, my lady," the steward greeted warmly, bowing as was the custom.

"My lord will do," Adunaphel replied. "I've come here to rule."

"Ah, yes, a noble goal, my la...my lord," the steward corrected himself. "Many have come to the shores of Endor to make their fortunes."

"There will be time for pleasantries later, lord steward," Adunaphel stated. "My men will be landing shortly and they will need lodgings until I have come into my own. I have twenty ships under my command with four hundred sailors; they will remain at berth here in the harbor for the time being."

"At once, my lord," the steward bowed and left.

It took at least four hours for all twenty of the ships to disembark and unload their passengers and cargo. The flagship took the longest, for Adunaphel had brought along quite a great number of personal effects and had her servants and attendants, who numbered forty, unload them all and bring them to her apartment. There were also supplies enough for her little host, most of which had survived the seven day voyage across the Great Sea from Numenor to Umbar. These would have to be unloaded as well, for her army needed supplies in order to march.

After the four hours had passed, Adunaphel retired to her apartment with the captain of her personal guards, a man whom she called Abrazir, though his Elvish name was Arthdir. He had been sworn into her household as a sword-thain when she was fifty and had served her faithfully ever since, rising up to become captain of her guard. Of all those in her service, his counsel she was wont to heed in difficult matters, though these were few and Captain Abrazir was humbled when she deigned to seek his advice in matters.

The two old friends sat upon ebony chairs inside the stone room, and looked at a map of the coast-line of Umbar that lay upon the table before them.

"Something on your mind, my lord?" Abrazir asked.

"There are far too many blank spaces on the maps here in Umbar," Adunaphel noted, examining the map. "Eastward into Far Harad, there's little report of anything but desert sands."

"The Dunedain never went too far inland, my lord," Abrazir explained. "There are few rivers south of the Harnen wide enough for our ships."

"Hmm," Adunaphel mused. "Word back in Numenor was that the lands of the Haradrim were rich, that the swarthy Southrons wore gold as if it were cloth."

"I certainly saw a fair bit of gold in the merchant stalls in the city while we were unloading our ships," said Abrazir. "Perhaps those rumors have some merit in them?"

"Perhaps," Adunaphel nodded. "But for the moment, I believe we should not stray far from the coast. According to the map..." She pointed towards a point on the map northwest of the Haven of Umbar. "...there's a fertile stretch of coast-land in this region here, called by the locals the Blood Fells."

"We'll be able to have a little portage of our own," Abrazir added. "Our little fleet will be able to provide assistance if we need them."

"Indeed," Adunaphel stated. "I'll have the captains of my men prepare to march north and west tomorrow at first light. You, on the other hand, I want to go throughout the city. Find me an interpreter who can speak the languages of the Haradrim, as well as one who has some knowledge of the surrounding area. We will need to know the people we are about to rule, shall we not?"

"A wise course, my lord," Abrazir nodded. He then rose from his chair and left her quarters.

Adunaphel was warmed by the approval of her captain, as a friend by the sagely advice of another. Though she was master of her own counsel and, being highborn and possessed with the same restless and headstrong spirit as befell all the Dunedain in the days of their strength, brokered not the approval of others, she was fond of Abrazir. That he found her choice of actions to be wise was to her liking. After he left and the door closed upon his departure, she continued to look at the map of the coastal land of Umbar.

"Adunaphel, King of Vamag," she muttered to herself, gazing at the 'Blood Fells'. The title was to her liking. As a king she had come to Middle Earth from out of the West, and as a king would she rule.

* * *

 **(AN: I hope my opening author's note didn't turn you off too much. I'm surprised to hear that there are actually those who liked _The Hobbit_ movies. Even after a second viewing, my opinion has changed little. In lieu of a lengthy diatribe against that, I will leave you with this beginning chapter and the hope of improvement in the future chapters to come.)**

 **(Since i've brought my _Elder Scrolls_ series to a decent resting point, i can forge ahead with this story. As far as what to expect, i'll try not to make this character as much of a "mary sue" as i feel, in retrospect, Nenwe was in _Last Alliance_ [which sucks because i wanted to improve her and use her again as a kind of tertiary narrator during the events of the War against Angmar and the northern campaign of the War of the Ring]. However, as this is a story of the Dunedain in their might, they will be rather awesome. I hope that you can bear with me in this regard.)**


	2. Lord of Vamag

**(AN: I'm a little wary going into this story. Looking back on _Last Alliance_ and _Shadow of the East_ , my previous Tolkien fics are awful! Like, little better than the other bad fics on here! How can i possibly make something good from something i love so much that my standard for derivative works from it are already astronomically high?)**

 **(Oh well, here's hoping that my years with _Elder Scrolls_ stories have given my writing some measure of improvement.)**

* * *

 **Lord of Vamag**

For seven days the host remained at Umbar as the preparations were being made for the journey into the northwestern cape of the Blood Fells. Most of their food and wine had been spent on the voyage by sea from Numenor, and now they would need even more: a long voyage through the dry, arid land to Vamag awaited them. But cross it they must, for Adunaphel was determined to make for herself a fief of her own. Umbar was, for the moment, in the hands of another lord.

During that seven day period, Adunaphel was restless. Her personal effects were stored, and it was vain to take them out since, before long, they would be on their way. It was her wont to play her lute every morning and sing a song: for, as it was in the days of the greatness of the Dunedain, a lord or lady of high standing was expected to be skilled and well-learned in more than one vocation. Captains of men were also learned in lore reaching back to the dawning of Men, or of that which the Eldar knew of the days before the Sun and Moon. As such, Adunaphel was learned in the fine, creative arts as well as those of warfare and dominion.

Furthermore, Adunaphel was, despite her better attributes, vain and grasping. During her blossoming years from girl to womanhood, she realized that she was beautiful. Through the years, her beauty did not fade. As she undertook her private education back in Numenor, she was aware that she was skilled as well as beautiful: this did nothing to assuage her vanity. As a noble-woman, only the foolish dared to contradict her or claim that she was not the most beautiful or the most talented. As the long years passed and the restlessness of mortals beset her, it came into her mind that, if she was indeed fair and cunning and of noble birth, she must also receive such things as befitting those who were high and mighty. A throne she had not in Numenor, and thus, like others, had come to Middle Earth, seeking glory unending and wealth. As it is with those who are vain, Adunaphel often permitted her skill and cunning to be displayed. Not merely for exercise of her craft did she play her lute and sing every morning: it was also to display her great skill and receive the adulation meet for one so great.

But now her lute was stored away and her mood was too low for song. She sat upon her horse, a black charger clad in armor that shone like silver. With her left hand she drummed idly upon the fauld of her armor, plucking the strings of her lute in her mind; and with her right hand she held the reins. At her side was Abrazir and Zadnazir, the captains of her personal guard. Each of them were mounted, for Adunaphel was wealthy enough to afford to purchase mounts for her personal guard. These horses had been purchased in the markets of Armenelos, the finest of the Mittalmar breed from the Inlands of Numenor, and, at great expense, had been transported across the sea for this expedition. For the Men of the West kept and bred horses in the central grasslands of their great island kingdom.

Adunaphel's thoughts were not on her horses, but on the company that was gathering at the gates, where she sat on her horse at its head. They would make the three-day journey across the desert sands to Vamag. The host was small, less than a vanguard of any great army. But these were all she had, loyal retainers of her family's house and those she levied from Forostar: and she was ambitious, confident in her own martial skill and her ability to lead a small group to victory. Some might have called her overconfident, but she had never lost a battle: then again, she had never fought a true foe.

"My lord," Abrazir said, noticing the lady's nervousness. "Is everything alright?"

"We're moving too slowly," she returned.

Abrazir chuckled. "You've been saying that for the past seven days, my lord."

"I enjoy your good humor, Abrazir," she returned curtly. "But this is not the time for idle jesting." That sixteen hundred men could not be assembled in quicker order was an annoyance to her.

"Surely," she continued, speaking aloud but not looking directly at Abrazir. "If we waste our time in preparation, we may yet find Vamag held against us in force."

"That I find unlikely, my lord," Abrazir stated. He then called back down the company and waved his hand. Presently, an escort of two of the lady's personal guard appeared. Standing between them was one of the Southrons: a short man with short hair upon his head and a black beard upon his chin that was almost as long as a Dwarf's beard. He was dressed in a loose fitting crimson robe without a belt. Upon each finger was a gold ring, upon both of his wrists were golden bracelets, and a gold chain hung about his neck.

"This is Jubayr," Abrazir introduced. "He will serve for us as our translator."

"You waited seven days to present one before me?" Adunaphel asked. "I thought you were better than that."

"I would have found one sooner, my lord," Abrazir returned. "But that interpreters are in great demand and hard to come by. As usual, my lord, I found one of the best to serve you. Jubayr not only speaks three of the seven known Southron dialects, but is familiar with the land where we will be going. I trust you will find him very useful to your cause."

"That remains to be seen," Adunaphel stated. She then turned to the shorter man. "Why do you not bow?"

"Harwan do not bow to the sea-peoples," Jubayr replied, a smile on his face.

"Is that what the court of Umbar permits?" Adunaphel returned, a scowl contorting her fair face. "You will bow before your new king."

"Why, my lady?" asked Jubayr. "There are no kings, save for the chieftains of our own people."

"My lord will do!" Adunaphel curtly interjected.

Jubayr seemed surprised, but, under the stern gaze of Adunaphel and her guards, he relented with a gentle inclination of his head.

"Pardon me, my lord," Jubayr excused. "It is not our custom to regard the sea-people as lords. Our tales tell of the benevolence and wisdom of the sea-people. They came with peace, wisdom, friendship and cunning skill in their hands."

"Now we come with the scepter of dominion," Adunaphel stated. "The sooner your people realize and accept this, the easier it will go for you. Now then, tell me about the land known in your tongue as Vamag."

"There is little to tell of there," said Jubayr. "It faces the sea, with cliffs along the northern border that form the hill on the end of the peninsula. Around there are rocky shores and further inland, sparse grass and red clay make up the rest of that region."

"And the people there?" Adunaphel asked. "Who lives there now? What strength do they have?"

"Small groups of fisher-folk," Jubayr replied. "They keep to themselves, though the chieftains of Near Harad trade with them for fish. Such food is a rare commodity the farther east one goes from the coast, where the sun is hot and the white sands burn the skin."

"That will do, Jubayr," Adunaphel stated. In her mind, she was weighing what her small force of sixteen hundred might have to face if it came down to blows. But from what the interpreter said, they had nothing to worry about: fisher-folk would certainly scatter like creeping insects at the onset of even a small armed host.

"How far is it to Vamag from here?" she asked.

"About six days journey on foot," replied the Southron.

"Very good," she nodded. Turning to one of her guards, she ordered him to get a horse for Jubayr. She then looked down at the rings on his fingers. "You seem to have done rather well for yourself."

"A man of my skill," he said proudly. "Can profit greatly by using them."

"Indeed," she returned. "And if you serve me well, you shall win for yourself great reward and renown that shall pass down upon all your descendants."

"I am greatly honored," Jubayr nodded.

"As well you should be," she replied. As soon as she had made an end to speaking, a rider approached the lady and saluted with a fist pounded upon his breast-plate. With him was her guard with a horse for Jubayr, which the short man mounted easily.

"My lord," he said. "We are assembled."

"Finally," she returned. "Abrazir, have the heralds sound the trumpets. We move out now!"

A loud fanfare blasted upon silver trumpets, and the sound of marching feet picked up as the Numenorean soldiers marched their way out of the city gates. At the head of the company rode Adunaphel, her personal guards and their interpreter. As they were passing out of the northern gate of Umbar, Adunaphel checked her horse and turned about to look back at the great city. It was not yet swollen to its full might, but even here, in its youth, the port city was a wonder to behold.

"Farewell, queen of the cities," she muttered towards the walls. "I shall return to you: then to rule."

* * *

The host that set out from Umbar was not as great as it had been when it left the port of Romenna in Westernesse. Four hundred sailors remained anchored in her fleet of twenty black-sailed ships. The small host that Adunaphel now led was only sixteen hundred, but that was more than enough, in her estimation. They had little choice but to go by land: for, during the seven days of planning, she and Abrazir had gone over the map of the western coast of Haradwaith every night. The largest peninsula of the Glinfalas, with the Blood-Fells at its northwestern tip, was separated from the sands of Near Harad by a chain of mountains that extended northeastward as far as the Harnen River. From the sea, the red sandstone mountains made the Blood Fells and the lands around it seem very much the same: they might miss it even upon a clear day. But more than simply convenience, Adunaphel wanted to display her might before the people they might encounter. If Jubayr was correct, then all the better that the fisher-folk of Vamag see the might of her host.

Therefore they went on foot, following the wain-paths made by traders and caravans of old. It was a slow, winding and indirect road, skirting the coast-line for many miles as there were no paths through the mountains in the heart of the peninsula. Every day was filled with blinding brightness from the sun above, that beat down upon them in waves of dry heat. So great was the heat that the men found that breathing the hot air was as exhausting as marching in full armor. Even the wind blown from off the sea was not very cool while the sun was shining. There were no trees farther inland, and here on the coast, only two types of trees grew. Most were stunted things only about man-high, that offered no protection from the scorching sun; the others were tall palms with narrow fronds that gave little shade. Only when darkness fell at night did the sea-breeze become cool enough to take away the memory of the burning heat of the day. But on the northern side of the camp, where the sea-breeze died out, there was hot air even at night.

After marching non-stop for one day, taking rest only when there was no light to guide them, the host made camp a little off the road. Before the morning dawned, the trumpets sounded again and they began in the dim hours of early morning, hoping to gain some miles before the heat of the day overtook them. By the time the sun climbed into the sky and the unbearable heat beat down upon them, they met a fork in the road: one path continued along the coast-line, while the other turned off towards the northwest. After a short consultation of their map, Adunaphel ordered the company to take the right-hand path that led northwest: this path would shave off at least another day's journey around the coast-line of one of the three peninsulae of Glinfalas.

The second day of their voyage took them along the northern end of the inner peninsula to its bay, where they made camp for the night. The next day they crossed the bay at a ford, pausing only slightly to wash the dust off their bodies in the cool sea water of the ford. Though they had met no opposition, Adunaphel would not permit her men to doff their livery or armor, in case they met with assaults on their way. Therefore they were all of them, to a man, exhausted beyond belief and more than grateful for the chance to bathe and wash away the dust and heat of travel. Adunaphel did not bathe, but ordered her personal servant to fill a clay jug with water, which she washed her face therewith and was refreshed.

After many of them had been washed and refreshed, they continued their march. To make up for the long delay at the ford, they marched at a quicker pace than the previous days. By nightfall, they could see before them, a dark line upon the otherwise golden-white sandy horizon before them and to the right. After consulting with the map and with Jubayr, Adunaphel ordered their tents to be set up: the dark line was the edge of a forest that clung to an arm of the mountains on the peninsula that reached down towards their path. They were getting close.

The fourth day of their expedition dawned with no resistance: the only assault came from the sun beating down upon them. After this many days, the Dunedain were red-faced and sore from the endless hours of marching beneath the sun. Jubayr showed them how to keep the sun out by wrapping their heads and faces with cloth. This they did, sacrificing some of their own stores of cloth to keep the sun off of them. This helped in the majority of the day, when the sun climbed over the forest that gathered upon the right-hand of their path. To their left, on the other side of the bay, they could see the longest arm of the peninsula like a red line on the horizon, reaching down southward to bar their path. As the day came to a close, they made camp about a mile from the last ford, where their path would take them down the coastal line of that far peninsula. Here once more Adunaphel summoned Abrazir and Jubayr into her tent to discuss their plan.

"My lord," Jubayr greeted, a warm, assuring smile on his face. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on your progress. Never before have I seen a host of the sea-people travel across the barren lands of the Harwan. You tread across land as swiftly as you do the sea."

"Well said," Adunaphel replied. "You certainly know how to compliment your future lord." She then turned to Abrazir. "How are the men? Can they continue the journey?"

"Our supplies of water are running dangerously low," Abrazir stated. "And there have been no wells to be found in yon forest to the east. By the Valar, the trees in this country seem to grow from the very sand, living off the heat and dryness!"

Adunaphel scowled. Abrazir's words were not to her liking. Though the Men of Westernesse feared and worshiped the Valar, the Kings Men held them in quiet contempt. Upon the shoulders of Numenor were placed these two dooms inescapable: that, as Men, they must die and that, though they had mastery over the seas to the north, south and east, they may not sail west so far that Numenor disappear from sight. But for Adunaphel, there was a personal distrust for the Valar and their chiefest of servants, the immortal Eldar.

"Can we reach Vamag with what we have?" she asked.

"Not likely," Abrazir lamented. Adunaphel waved her hand and one of her scribes brought forth the map of Hardwaith, which was unfurled before them. Abrazir pointed towards the peninsula at its eastern bay. "We are here. The road follows the eastern coast here, but comes to an end at the tip of the peninsula." He traced his finger along its side. "Then, almost twice that count of leagues around the cape to reach Vamag, with no path to follow other than the shore. We cannot make this journey in six days, with four already behind us."

"Why did you say that we could make the journey in six days?" Adunaphel asked, turning to Jubayr.

"Your pardon, my lords," the Southron said. "But there is another way, one which this map does not deign to show."

"Pray open this riddle," Adunaphel insisted, her patience wearing thin after Abrazir's careless remark about the Valar.

Jubayr knelt down and pointed to the map, starting at the corner of the peninsula. "Some ten leagues or more south of this ford here, there is a path which leads up into the mountains. It goes west, then bends northward, before straightening out again and arriving at a river of fresh water that comes down from the mountains. Your men may refill their water-skins there, then follow the coast to Vamag, with no need to cross the cape to the south." He pointed at the cape below.

Adunaphel's scowl softened. "You may have just saved our expedition, Jubayr. I will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded for your efforts."

"My thanks, my lord," Jubayr bowed. He was dismissed, and left with many a thanks.

"If that is all, my lord," Abrazir stated. "Then I must return to the men."

"Why did you say that?" Adunaphel asked.

"Say what, my lord?" he asked.

"'By the Valar,'" quoth Adunaphel.

"Apologies, my lady," Abrazir bowed. "It is merely a custom."

"One that I will not permit in my court at Vamag," she replied. "You of all people, knowing me better than any man, should know this."

"Forgive me, my lady," Abrazir repeated.

"I will forgive you," she said in her heart, but said aloud: "You are dismissed." He saluted, then left her tent. Meanwhile, the words he had spoken had brought back to her mind that which she believed had been long hidden. Memories of Numenor as it was, the happy and the sad.

A shadow had fallen upon her from a very young age, even in her youth upon the Isle of the Star. Her mother, Alcariel, was fair and kind, but she was also taken by a distemper that even the greatest leech-craft of the Dunedain could not wholly cure: perhaps it was the fear of death which drove her into such sullen and maddening fits, for even the Elendili, the Elf-Friends and those of the House of Silmarien, were not spared the Doom of Man. To seek relief, she sought out the wisdom and counsel of the Eldar, who often visited the Dunedain and dwelt among them for a time in Andustar. But neither her husband Adunahil nor their daughter could quite understand the sorrow that befell her.

For Adunaphel, her lessons were her solace, away from the sorrow that clung to her home. Her early years were filled with memories of raised voices shouting: arguing between her father and mother. Even when the mood did not beset Alcariel, she and her husband were often exchanging harsh words with each other. For Adunahil was of the Kings Men and did not trust the Valar, or their servants the Eldar, and saw in his wife seeking them out over him as a betrayal. The strain of dealing with one so disturbed and his own wrath at her decision, coupled with the Numenorean tradition of marrying late, caused him to die while Adunaphel was still young. As if to take up where her father left off, Adunaphel became hard and cold to her mother, chiding her for bringing death into the family. She found refuge and an ally in her uncle, her father's brother Adunazil; for he too despised the Eldar and spoke in whispers against the Ban of the Valar.

Even now, many years after her parents were dead and buried, embalmed and preserved in marble in the Halls of the Dead in Bar Forowing, the mention of the Valar brought back to Adunaphel's mind those awful memories. Though the Dunedain still feared the Valar, even the Kings Men dared not speak openly against the Ban, that did nothing to quell the unease of her people or to assuage the hatred in her heart. Parting the flap of her tent, she gazed out into the west, towards Numenor that is, and beyond to Avallone and even farther, to the Seat of the Powers in Aman, the Blessed and Undying Lands. The cold, hard woman shed a tear, then turned her back on the West.

* * *

In the morning, Adunaphel rose ere the rising of the sun, and the camp rose shortly thereafter. Last night, after wrestling with her memories, she decided to take Jubayr's advice and go through the mountains. Wherefore, since they would be leaving the shelter of the forest and enter the rough, rugged and red mountain ranges, they left before sunrise, eager to make good time in reaching the mountain pass. When at last they found it, as the sun was climbing in the sky, bearing down upon their backs, they found that the path was much narrower and rugged than they had been led to believe. Nevertheless, Adunaphel ordered her men to take that path, dismounting along with her personal guards and leading the horses after her.

Again they made excellent time and before long were entangled within the mountains, following the narrow path. Many men were becoming sick of the heat and more than a few had swooned from the exhaustion. Adunaphel, driven by her desire to conquer this rugged land, mastered herself and had not even paused in lightness of head. She drove the others on, eager to see the sea beyond the mountains. About midday, they came to a halt. One of the scouts had spotted a carcass on the road, and the company had halted when the report came back in. Taking up their weapons, Adunaphel, Abrazir, Jubayr and five of her guards followed the scout up the track to where the carcass had been found. There, lying in the road, was the body of a horse: it was a local horse, smaller than the Mittalmar horses of Numenor, or even the steeds of the Eldar bred in the far North. Its belly had been ripped open and bloody entrails lay upon the red earth.

"What could have done this?" Abrazir asked. "There aren't wolves this far south, are there?"

"What are wolves?" asked Jubayr.

"Wild dogs," clarified Abrazir. "Vicious creatures, they often hunt in packs."

"Oh, you mean the _saq'yl_ ," Jubayr replied. "Small creatures, covered in hair. The chieftains of the Harazan keep some of them as pets. It might be one of them, though."

"What other things could there be?" asked Adunaphel. "We're trusting to your judgment, Jubayr, now that we've become entangled in these mountains. All those blessings I promised will be for naught if you lead us into a trap."

"Afraid of _mahudil_ , are you?" he asked.

"What?" both Abrazir and Adunaphel asked as one.

"The wild men of the far south," Jubayr replied. "Taller even than sea-people, skin black as night, with eyes like the white sand and tongues as red as blood. It is said they were the first ones to tame the _mumakil_ , creatures even larger than they are." He looked at the two Dunedain, both of them with wary looks in their eyes as they looked up towards the tall cliffs on either side. Jubayr then burst into loud, raucous laughter.

"You think this is a joke?" Adunaphel asked.

"My lord does not have to fear of _mumakil_ or _mahudil_ here in the mountains," Jubayr returned. "They never come into the mountains. It would be folly to lead them there. The worst we have to worry about are _saq'yl_. We must make haste: they will come down upon us for sure if we pitch our tents in the mountain pass at night."

Adunaphel ordered the guards to return to the company and order them to continue the march, but she and Abrazir tarried for a while, gazing at the carcass. For the guard, he was wary of these saq'yl. No such beast was known in any part of the North or in Numenor, and no report of such beasts came out of the far and distant lands beyond the Bands of Arda or the Walls of Morning. But for Adunaphel, the memory of the night before still fresh in her mind, it meant something else, something much more poignant and yet so plain that even a simpleton could have guessed her mind.

The dead horse was a sign of death. A horrible, gruesome death, and perhaps the worst that mortal mind could dread to suffer - torn to pieces for food by wild beasts - but it was death nonetheless. Death was the Doom of Man, and it troubled the hearts of the Dunedain: from the humblest farmer tilling his fields in Orrostar to Tar-Ciryatan, High King of Numenor, in his high throne in Armenelos and all of his house, high and low. Even the cold, hard heart of Adunaphel daughter of Adunahil was shaken by the knowledge that even she would die, fair and mighty though she was.

* * *

Speed they had on their side and they passed through the mountains and saw at last the sea, crowned with golden fire as the sun sank thither. They marched down, keeping the light of the sun ever before them, until at last they reached the foothills of the mountain pass and made camp at last. All that night they had no attacks, but there were many ill in the camp. The heat was burdensome to all, great and small, man and woman. Many were sick and the lord's personal healer and his servant were kept very busy all throughout the camp. And for those who were not overwhelmed by the heat, they were short-tempered and sullen. Twice before they took up their camp and left, Abrazir and Zadnazir were forced to bring quarrels among the troops to an end.

At last, on the sixth day, they arrived at the northern cape of the Glinfalas peninsula. Here the mountains rose high and red on the eastern side, and there was a forest at the northeastern corner of the cape. But on the western shore was a great plataeu that sloped down towards the sea. There were several tents of burned orange cloth here and there, and groups of people milling about here and there: all of the people about were Haradrim. Here Adunaphel summoned forth her personal guards and Jubayr to attend him. Alone of the company, the swarthy Southron was unaffected by the heat and the sun and was in good spirits: and it did nothing to improve Adunaphel's spirits to see him grinning at her left side while all of her people sighed, groaned and quarreled. But she had a task now to do. Flanked on either side by her guards, Abrazir's company ahorse and Zadnazir's company on foot, Adunaphel rode forth towards the cluster of tents.

"Who are these people?" she asked Jubayr.

"Fisher-folk, nomads," the Southron replied.

"Who is their leader?" asked Adunaphel.

"They have no chief, my lord," said Jubayr. "The people govern themselves with no head."

"Govern themselves?" laughed Adunaphel haughtily. "Even the Eldar have no such foolish customs! To whom do they owe their allegiance?"

"They have no allegiance to anyone," Jubayr replied. "But they trade freely with any and all folk."

"And the land?" she asked. "Who owns the land they live on?"

"No one owns the land," Jubayr stated, a proud grin on his face upon noticing Adunaphel's consternation. "Everyone uses it freely and equally."

"But this would surely bring about conflict betimes," Abrazir noted. "How are such matters settled if there is no leader?"

"With blood-shed," Jubayr returned. "And he who slays the other wins the matter."

"Savages," Abrazir grumbled.

"If that's the case," Adunaphel said, gazing towards the tents. "Then they will not be unfamiliar with what will happen to them if they refuse us." She rode towards the center of the tents. A few folk here noticed them, gazing up at the tall sea-people, riding upon their horses, clad in mail and shining steel. Even in their weariness, to the folk of Vamag, they were mighty still. As they came to the center of the town, Adunaphel ordered her guards to attend her, then had Jubayr cry out in the Haruze tongue, that those around might heed them.

"Speak everything I say to them in words which they can understand," she said to Jubayr. He nodded and thus began to translate after the lord Adunaphel, speaking in their tongue every word she said.

"I am Adunaphel, lord of Vamag," she spoke. "By my right as a scion of the House of Elros, lord of the Kings Men of Westernesse, I claim this land for my own. You will serve me in all matters, paying to my hand one tenth of all you possess. Your sons shall serve me as soldiers, to come and go at my command in time of war: and in time of peace, they will serve me as workmen, to build towers and cities, to plow the ground, sew and reap the harvest for my gain. Your daughters also shall serve me as I see fit."

With each word spoken, a horrified look came upon Jubayr's face. He turned to Adunaphel, who now looked upon the lands before her and the village of tents with a hunger in her gray eyes; and it dismayede him. He had not believed that the sea-people were such as came to rule, but as friends with healing and wisdom in their hands. But now he saw the change that had been wrought in the hearts of the Dunedain of Westernesse and he feared that he had sold his people.

* * *

 **(AN: Okay, that chapter was, thankfully, longer than the last one and more up to the standard of my usual chapters from my _Elder Scrolls_ stories. Hope this means better things are on the horizon.)**

 **(Got to show a little of Adunaphel's darker side with how they took Vamag and the march through the mountains. Keep in mind that, while it might seem easy for me to just write her off as being evil to begin with [certainly some of you will see that, her and the Numenoreans being pale and the Haradrim being darker skinned, there's automatically some subtext of slavery there], that is not the case. I read the _Akallabeth_ portion of the _Silmarillion_ , and it talks of two "falling away" moments in the history of Numenor. The one featured here is the first one, where the Men of Westernesse came back to Middle Earth as rulers [the second "falling away" is when they return again to enslave the "lesser" people. So obviously this is before that].)**

 **(The " _saq'yl_ " mentioned in this chapter comes from the Turkish word " _çakal_ ", which means "jackal.")  
**


	3. Resistance

**(AN: This is the first time where a certain canon character is mentioned. Only one of his names is from Tolkien's works, the rest are made up [one of which is from _Shadow of the East_ , if any of you from that fic are reading this one].)**

 **(I made a word in this chapter, based somewhat on Tolkien's Sindarin/Quenya. The word refers to the substance which was used in the construction of Orthanc, the first wall of Minas Tirith and the black stone of Erech. I'm also trying to make some sub-plots going on in this story that will tie the whole thing together, as well as adhering as strongly as possible to the established lore of Numenor: namely that the Dunedain at this point lived very long and had cures for most ailments.)**

 **(Really? Two chapters and already my story is being called "trying" and my character an MS? Not even gonna try to give it a chance, are you? Just cut it off before it even gets started. Oh well, that's life. Nobody liked Eirik from my _Skyrim_ stories, so i'm used to getting trolled. And while i honestly realize that i'm not the best author, i don't think that my story should be categorized with...well, other MS stories. I wouldn't even consider Adunaphel a morally good character. And if you, _LadyJocelyn_ , don't like the idea of a female Nazgul, then take it up with the folks at _MERP_ , because they made Adunaphel, not me.)**

* * *

 **Resistance**

The host remained on the plateau here at Vamag, pitching their tents in a place on the western shores with the doors of their tents facing the sea. The people they set about to gathering food for the host, as well as for finding and bringing them water. Adunaphel oversaw this and was, for the most part, amazed at how much wealth these poor fisher-folk had for themselves. Every one of them had golden rings upon their fingers, in their ears, noses and bracelets upon their wrists.

"Where did all this wealth come from?" she asked Jubayr, who stood at her side.

"Harazan from the farther deserts inland," Jubayr grimly replied. "Trade gold for fish."

"So there's more?" she asked, looking at the pile of earrings and bracelets on the ground before her. "I should very much like to meet these tribes who give away gold as though it were dust."

Jubayr was not pleased with how things turned out. But for the present, he did not make his displeasure known.

For the rest of that day, Adunaphel sent scouts to explore the cape and judge its strengths and weaknesses. These then made their reports on maps of animal hide and brought them before her and Abrazir, who poured over the maps. The western side of the cape was protected from the east by tall cliffs, sheer and smooth like the Sorontil in her homeland in the North. These extended southeast to a point where there was a single narrow pass between the northern arm of the sheer mountains and the southern range which they had followed all throughout their journey: here the cliffs were close and only six could walk abreast. The plateau of Vamag could not be reached by land from any other pass besides the southern way, which they had come, and this narrow pass. The mountains could not be scaled by reason of their sheerness and roughness, and on the northern range of the mountains there was a great wood. Only from the sea was the plateau vulnerable.

Adunaphel deemed this to be strength enough. The sea was no concern to her, for the Haradrim built no ships and she had with her twenty ships and crew trained in warfare. Even if a host came from the south, her fleet could be mustered shortly to defend the southern flank on its long, empty path along the sea-side. The eastern pass could not be assailed by a great force, for the narrowness of the path made numbers count for nothing: and how narrow it was meant that even if their enemy brought one of the fabled mumakil to bear against them, they could not bring it through the pass to the plateau.

"Our southern flank will be our weakest point," Adunaphel told Abrazir, pointing to the map. "But our ships cannot be in every place at once. And it will be best to keep them in Umbar for the time being. But nevertheless, I would want a fortress in this plateau. We might find good stone in the cliffs here, enough to build a great wall to guard the south and east."

"We'll get to work on it right away," Abrazir stated. "I'll have some of these men get to quarrying stone from the mountains. We have enough masons to guide these savages in proper stone-work."

"I would care to use the local stone as much as possible," Adunaphel replied. They had brought little _morgond_ with them from Minul-Tarik, the great mountain in the center of Numenor, called in the Elvish tongue Meneltarma, the Pillar of the Heavens. It was said in the Second Age that of iron mined from the earth and beaten for steel there was mithril, and of stone carved from the earth and fashioned for building there was _morgond_. It was a black stone, unlike anything that could be found in Middle Earth, whether North, South or East. The Men of Westernesse fashioned and polished it into a substance harder than iron and smoother than glass. No power less than that which sank Beleriand at the end of the First Age could have broken anything made of _morgond_ , whether it be towers or walls, and pledges were made upon _morgond_. But it did not grow and could only be fashioned out of what was on hand.

The rest of that day was spent drawing floor-plans and schemes of the fort that would be placed here at Vamag. Houses would be built as well, and barracks and stables and blacksmiths for the garrison. But as evening was on its way, there was a loud shout and Adunaphel and her guards and Jubayr ran thither. A quarrel had broken out, it seemed, between the Dunedain soldiers and the locals over something or other. Now it had almost come to blows, with the Harazan wielding short fishing spears against the Dunedain's swords. They came up to one of the soldiers who stood with sword in his hand before a tent: at the entrance stood a short, thin, spidery Southron fisherman clad in a loin-cloth and painted with streaks of white, black and red.

"What is going on here?" Adunaphel demanded.

"We were collecting gold, my lord, as you ordered us," said the soldier. "But this rascal refused to surrender his share!"

"Jubayr, speak!" she returned. "Demand that he give what he has!" Jubayr shouted his words in the Haruze tongue, and the fisherman replied angrily. Jubayr did not immediately reply.

"What did he say?" Adunaphel asked.

"He said..." Jubayr replied slowly, his eyes looking towards the fisherman. "That you have no right to what is his. Go back to your island and leave him and his people in peace."

"No right?" Adunaphel returned, her voice rising slowly in wrath as her gray eyes burned with greed. "No right! Who are you to say who has right or no, you swarthy, impudent little fish-monger? Who was it who saved your people from ignorance, teaching you language and learning, smashing the old idols and putting to death the heathen priests that sacrificed your own children to the Dark Lord?"

Jubayr did not interpret her words, for he, like the fisherman, was transfixed by the wrath of Adunaphel. Though the House of Silmarien were the tallest members of the royal house of Numenor, the Dunedain were, as a whole, taller than the lesser folk of Middle Earth. Even among women, they stood six feet tall at the very least. Adunaphel was hardly least in stature among the Dunedain women, and was as strong as many man in a sword-fight. But she bore also the spirit of her father, and her wrath was as his wrath was against her mother for her daliance with the Eldar.

The fisherman, though he did not understand her words, shouted back at her in his own tongue and brandished his spear towards her and her guard. It was a weak spear, and could not have defended the fisherman from a rusty goblin scimitar. At a command from Adunaphel, the soldier seized the spear from out of the fisherman's hand and broke it over his knee. In horror the fisherman staggered back and fell to the ground. Jubayr cried words to him in the Haruze tongue, gesturing towards the narrow pass to the East. At this, the fisherman forsook his little tent and scurried off towards the pass in fear, crying and yammering in his own tongue.

"Where has he gone?" asked Adunaphel.

"I told him what you said," Jubayr said: he had lied. "But he has fled."

"Then we must hunt him down!" Abrazir replied. "We are not ready to fend off an assault."

"No," Adunaphel shook her head. "Let the little man go. Let him tell whoever he wishes to tell that I am here, and I am their king. If they resist, they will see my might."

* * *

By nightfall, the camp had been arrayed and Adunaphel had ordered sentries to keep watch all through the night in case those others the fisherman had brought attacked at night. But she and Abrazir remained awake in her tent, for she was wary. They had gone over the schemes for the fortress that would be built a hundred times, it seemed. Rooms and halls and passages going this way and that were planned down to the smallest detail. And more and more plans were added onto these, until it seemed that many plans would be lost before the foundation bricks were laid.

"Get some rest, my lord," Abrazir stated. "We've come a long way through scorching deserts and blistering heat. I would not see so great a thing worn and wearied before its time."

"I am not yet wearied," Adunaphel replied. "And there are things that trouble my mind. These things drive sleep from my body."

"Then please, my lord," Abrazir said. "Open your mind to your servant. I am but a simple man, even among the Dunedain, and not a great lord as you are: but I will do what I can and help you with what wisdom and strength as are within my power."

Adunaphel sighed, straying from the tent and pacing before it. Abrazir followed her outside and saw her look eastward, towards the great red cliffs that flanked the narrow pass.

"Is it about what happened earlier today?" Abrazir asked. "Even in small numbers, we are stronger than those hereabouts, if they are in any way similar to yon fisherman."

"It is not of fish-mongers that I worry," Adunaphel shook her head. "For I fear them not. But there is another thing, a thing that has hidden in the middle of the land, a thing that is, for now, hidden from our view. Tomorrow, if you can, I would have you arise before the rising of the sun and climb with me to the tops of those hills on the east."

"For you, my lord," Abrazir smiled. "I will do anything."

Adunaphel smiled. "Your fealty is warming, my friend. Very well. Go now to your rest, and if you will indeed awake with me, then be ready for me when I awake."

Abrazir bowed and went to his tent while Adunaphel went to her bed as well. She had noticed his smile, and was certainly amused by it. She was not naive and discerned Abrazir's mind as best she could. How could anyone not love her, being fairest of the daughters of the Edain and a noblewoman of the House of Elros? She did not entertain his affections or give him any reason to believe that he had hope, for she was a noblewoman and he a simple soldier.

Without another thought of it, she tried to sleep, listening as often to the endless sighing of the waves against the shore. Yet for her, sleep did not come and she remained awake all that night. By the time morning came, she went to Abrazir's tent and found him awake. Together, with a sure-footed scout, they climbed the hills, following an old foot-path. It was not until the early morning sky was deep blue that they soon came towards the top of the mountains. With the morning dawning, they finally reached a place where the mountain-top flattened up and they could see over the mountains and far into the East.

Under the rising sun, Adunaphel and Abrazir, like their ancestors in the dawn of the first sun, gazed out at the rising of the sun here and now, over twenty-four hundred years after the dawning of their race. In its light, blazing red as if over the very Orocarni Mountains in the uttermost East, they could see a great desert land of mountains and plains stretched out before them to the East and South. To the North sight faded in a dull blue haze, where the haven of Pelargir marked the furthermost expansion of Numenor to the North of Middle Earth. Their eyes were drawn near at hand, and they followed the mountains that followed along the northwestern coast of Near Harad from the Glinfalas. Abruptly there was a great chasm cut into the land, where the desert heights fell away into steep, sharp cliffs that plummeted down towards the Harnen River, the greatest river of Haradwaith. On its northern shores the cliffs rose again, crowning the land nearest the sea with a ring of hills: this was Harondor, the northernmost lands of Haradwaith as far north as Emyn Laer and the Porus River.

But it was towards Harondor that their eyes were drawn. At the very furthest edge of the northeastern horizon, where sight began to fade, there was a dark line of hills, darker than the darkness. Even the rising of the sun could not shed much light on those hills. In the sight of those hills the hearts of both Adunaphel and Abrazir sank: for no shadow had they ever seen that the rising of the sun or the bright light of the sun sinking towards the Blessed Realm could not dispell. Yet this darkness was greater than all others and no light could penetrate that darkness.

"Is that what I think it is, my lord?" Abrazir asked.

"Aye, my friend," she replied. "You see before you, afar off, the southwestern foothills of the Ephel Duath, the mountains of Mordor, the land of the Dark Lord."

The name of Mordor was one that, even now, was grown to a name of great fear. The Eldar were at war with the Dark Lord of Mordor, whom the lesser men, such as the Haradrim, feared and worshiped. Few knew his true name, for he did not permit it to be spoken or written in any fashion, but he had many names besides in many tongues: Annatar he was called among the Elves, the Lord of Gifts, Sur in the uttermost East and Gor'khan among the Easterlings of Rhun, but here in Haradwaith, he had another name.

"It's so far away," Abrazir muttered. "Barely a line on the horizon's edge. Yet too close for my liking. When were you aware that it was here?"

"The scouts told me yesterday," she said. "That is the reason I spoke of the Dark Lord to the fish-monger, for that was yet on my mind. Now I cannot help but think about it."

"Well, what are your thoughts, my lord?"

"It is said," Adunaphel began. "That even the Eldar fear the Dark Lord of Mordor, and they fear nothing. Back home, I must admit that I never gave him much thought. After all, we are a great empire: the Great Sea lies between us and Middle Earth, and our ships have the mastery over all the seas from here to the uttermost East. But now the Sea lies behind us and Mordor before us and this land and the Harnen are all that separate us from yonder Black Land."

"What can we do about it?" asked Abrazir.

"Long ago," she continued. "Our people came to Middle Earth to enlighten the Men of Darkness, to free them from the grip of fear of the Dark Lord. I am not convinced that the Haradrim will not revert to their old heathen ways in the face of our might. And we cannot wait for a horde of orcs to march down upon us from the Black Land. We must seek out the Haradrim villages and cities from the Haven of Umbar to the Harnen. We must see whether the Dark Lord's hand is moving among his former servants."

"It's a good plan, my lord," Abrazir nodded. "But how shall we carry it out? We know of no villages around this area, besides the ones here at Vamag."

"That was another reason I let our little fish-monger go," Adunaphel added. "He will lead others to us, and then from them, we will learn where they are, how numerous they are and whether or not they have gone back over to the Dark Lord."

Having shown Abrazir what she wanted, Adunaphel made her way with him and the other soldier back down into the camp. After dismissing the captain of her guards, she returned to her tent. There she had her servants bring her lute: today would be the first day of settling down here in the Blood-Fells, and even if she had not yet a room in which to live, she would play her instrument. The morning also meant that her other servants would be attending on her, making her presentable for the day.

Most lords had their own private retinue of servants. Some of lesser renown would have fewer servants, but the lords of Numenor often kept large companies of servants as a sign of wealth and status. Adunaphel had forty servants in her personal retinue. First was a steward, who had authority to act in her name in her absence, sign papers in her name, and take command of her forces should she be away for battle or some other reason. Second to this was the personal attendant, a kind of esquire who would attend the lord during the day and perform various and sundry tasks. Often found around her were her three scribes, who could read and write Sindarin, Adunaic and the Common Tongue and who tended her library. Adunaphel was learned, but she did not spend her time reading, unless it was out of necessity. To complement the three scribes, she had also seven messengers, quick-footed and hardy men who each owned a swift horse and could ride day and night without rest.

After these were various personal servants and attendants, who saw to her every day needs. She had a personal physician skilled in the leech-craft of the day and an apprentice to assist him. Her kitchen staff numbered seven cooks and one butler who was the head of the staff. Three servants maintained her lute, procuring animal gut for the strings and polishing the finish: these three were also learned in the musical arts and kept her instrument in tune at all times. Eight personal attendants waited upon her momentarily, with five of them attending her throughout the day and three ladies-in-waiting taking care of her privy duties such as dressing, bathing and keeping clean. Lastly two grooms for her horse, two smiths for her weapons and armor and three seamstresses completed the tale of forty.

* * *

For seven days the fisher-folk were being supervised by the stonemasons in the construction of what would be Adunaphel's fortress. The work went slowly, for the Haradrim fishermen were not builders and Jubayr was often dragged from one building site to another to shout instructions to the workers in Haruze. During those seven days, Adunaphel had keen-eyed sentries placed along the cliffs overlooking the narrow pass to the east to keep watch for any assault that might come by day or night. Yet for three of those days and nights, there appeared no sign of any host, great or small, marching westward towards the ruddy Blood-Fells.

On the fourth day, the sentries reported a cloud of dust billowing up from the mouth of the canyon to the east. At once, Adunaphel sent scouts ahead to see from where came the cloud and what strength it brought. For two days they were away, finally arriving at night on the sixth day back in the camp. A company of horsemen were galloping across the desert, riding west towards the mountain pass. The company was not very large, no more than twenty, and they were armed with spears, short curved swords and bows.

"This is good," Adunaphel replied. A company of twenty would hardly be any match for their host.

On the seventh day, the scouts reported that the company would be upon them before midday. Adunaphel ordered her soldiers to position themselves on the edge of the canyon with their bows pointed towards the canyon where the horsemen would pass through. She then positioned the remaining troops in a wide semi-circle about ninety yards out from the canyon entrance, with her guards, Abrazir, Zadnazir and Jubayr with her on horseback, facing the entrance. There they waited, with only the growing cloud of dust issuing from the top of the canyon as indication that their foe was surely approaching.

At last, as the sun was climbing to noon, they appeared from the mouth of the canyon. Twenty riders on small gray horses, armed with such weapons as the scouts had reported. But here, in the light of day and closer at hand, the weapons could be clearly discerned. The bows were shorter than the longbows of the Dunedain, the spears hunting spears and the swords short of reach. As for the riders themselves, their faces could not be made out: all of them were clad in scarlet and sable, with veils upon their faces. Gold they had upon their clothes and upon their saddles, and it glistened in the noon sun. At his left, Abrazir could see Adunaphel's eyes widening hungrily as she gazed upon the shimmer of gold from the Haradrim horsemen.

Presently, a rider rode forth from the group of the Haradrim. He bore a tall spear and a cuirass of golden scales over his desert clothes. He cried with a loud voice in the Haruze tongue, and Adunaphel ordered Jubayr to interpret.

"He says," said Jubayr. "'I am Bakr, chieftain of the Black Scorpion clan. I demand that you give back to the fisher-folk their villages, return to your ships and go back across the sea. There is nothing for you here.'"

"The impudence!" Adunaphel chuckled. "To think of making demands before so great a host." She turned to the interpreter. "Tell him that he has two choices before him: submit freely to the rule of Adunaphel, lord of Vamag, or be forced to submit." Jubayr spoke. At this, the chieftain Bakr laughed and shouted to his people. They too laughed, and then one of the other riders rode forth and dismounted. He began to make strange gestures that Adunaphel could not see, while chieftain Bakr shouted in Haruze.

"What's happening?" she asked Jubayr. "What is he saying? What is the other one doing?"

"Bakr says," Jubayr replied. "That he would speak to the master of this host. He says that a woman has no place, but in the bedchamber of her master. He says that he recognizes no woman as master over him." He hesitated.

"Go on," Abrazir stated.

"The other man is Bah'far, the brother of Bakr," said Jubayr. "He invites the Lord Ard to kneel down before him and give him pleasure. He says that is the proper place for a woman."

Adunaphel's eyes blazed with a fierce wrath. Though she had not the keen eyes of the Eldar or House Silmarien, she guessed what was being done before her eyes. None had ever denied her anything back home in Numenor; no one would dare deny anything of a scion of the House of Elros, even a distant one such as she. That this ignorant little man dared to deny and defy her brazenly before her great host was a great effrontery. In her heart, it smacked of the pretentious, condescending attitude of the Eldar, deeming that they alone should possess immortality above the Dunedain. Nothing would be denied her!

"This little man insults you, my lord!" Abrazir cried out. "Give me the order, and I'll ride across this plain and cut off his head."

"So be it," she returned. Abrazir gave out a loud cry, then spurred his horse and charged across the plain, drawing out his sword from its sheath. As he was riding, she turned to Zadnazir on her left. "Should the horsemen attack him, give the order to the men. Kill as many as you have to, but do not slaughter them all."

"My lord," Zadnazir bowed, then rode off towards the captains.

She turned back towards the plain, to witness the valiance of her captain. There would be no great need for a blood-bath today, though she discerned that the men, fatigued by heat and hard labor, were eager for a fight. Dead men made poor subjects.

Across the field, Bah'far noticed the lone rider and quickly mounted back up and took up his spear, wagging his tongue as he made a loud, defiant battle-cry before charging towards Abrazir. At the first charge, Abrazir's sword turned the spear and they rode apart for another charge. A second time they clashed, neither relenting against the other. Again they rode back, then turned their horses about and charged again. At the third pass, Abrazir's sword broke off the spear-head of the Haradan prince. The Southron threw the spear aside and drew out his sword. Abrazir's sword was longer and, unlike his brother, Bah'far bore no cuirass, whether gold or wicker. They charged again and the Dunadan's sword outreached the curved blade of the Southron. Bah'far cried out, slouching in his saddle, then fell off to the left side onto the ground.

The prince Bakr lifted up his voice, and the cry was taken up by his horsemen, who then charged the lines of the Dunedain army. The battle was over almost before it had begun. Four more Haradan fell before they were surrounded and overwhelmed. Bakr was spared on Adunaphel's orders, as were most of his soldiers: she also gave orders to her men to take their weapons that they try not to kill themselves in the shame of their defeat. The gold was stripped from the Haradrim and placed at Adunaphel's feet; be it as little as a ring or as great and precious as the golden cuirass of Bakr. Once all the gold was taken, Adunaphel gave them back their weapons and told them to return to where they had come, that she would send messengers to them in time. Jubayr reluctantly translated her words. The dead man's head was cut off and sent back with Bakr and his men, while his body and his horse remained behind.

A little while later, and the gold was brought back to Adunaphel's tent along with Abrazir and Idhrendir, her steward: a man of some one hundred and ninety years dressed in gray robes with a white staff in his left hands. Before them was the gold they had gathered from the fisher-folk and Bakr's warriors.

"Such a great fortune!" exclaimed Adunaphel. "Surely this will be enough, will it not, Idhrendir?"

"Yes, my lord," Idhrendir bowed.

"I believe then, Idhrendir," she said to the steward. "That this sum before us will be enough to begin our ventures at the haven. Go at once to Umbar and invest some of our gold in some of the trading routes, such as would be beneficial toward us. Nothing too large, of course: we don't want to draw to ourselves the attention of the lord of the Havens. I trust that you, my steward, can use your own discretion in choosing what will be most profitable to our purpose."

"As you wish, my lord," Idhrendir bowed.

"As for you," Adunaphel turned to Abrazir. "Now that we know the identity of our first enemy, we know where to go to find them. I want you to disguise yourself in the dead Bah'far's clothes: they won't fit you, considering your stature, but they will hide your fair skin, your livery and other such details. Once you are disguised, follow the others back to their village and see if what we talked about is true."

"Me, my lord?" Abrazir asked. "I am honored that you think so highly of me, but my place is at your side."

"You are a worthy soldier," she replied. "And I would be loath to lose you. But you have proven your valor this day against these Haradrim filth. As such, I can think of none better to do this task: none whom I trust more for so great and important a task than you."

"Then, my lord," Abrazir grinned. "I must ask your leave as I pack for my journey."

"Granted," she replied, her eyes turned to the gold.

* * *

 **(AN: My purpose for this story, aside from delving once again into darker places, was to answer a question which i felt Peter Jackson and the fandom have not properly answered: what is the place of women in Middle Earth. I had initially planned on doing three more _LotR_ stories, one set during the War against Angmar, where we see the Dunedain after the Fall [sort of a comparison and contrast with this story], and the third being my version of the War in the North, which was based on the campaign from _Battle for Middle Earth 2_ [not the video-game _War in the North_ ]. That one would showcase the lives of Elves and Dwarves, and would be the concluding piece of the unofficial trio.)**

 **(I wonder if any of you Olog-hai know about _Game of Thrones_ enough for me to state that i made a reference to it in this story. Of course i couldn't go all out in this story, since i promised not to go as far as i did in _The Dragonborn and the Lioness_ as far as cursing and adult situations went. That story could have done this scene justice, but i'm challenging myself by restraining from going all the way. Anyhow, i got to depict said trolls in their proper way in this chapter...if you can catch my subtle description. Tolkien just isn't the place for extreme vulgarity [i remember Gandalf and the Hobbits saying "ass" and one of the Orcs saying "damn", but that's about it]: _Elder Scrolls_ , on the other hand, with smut like _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ and _36 Lessons of Vivec_ , is. But i did my best, trying to use "archaic" phrasing to make it sound more fitting in this world.)  
**


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